


Little Chap

by belivaird_st



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:38:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Mary Crawley learns that her son can sing just like her.





	Little Chap

Winter 1926

**xxxxx**

Mary Crawley was staring aimlessly out through a large glass window on a train ride to New York when she heard her son, George, hum a few notes of “Pop Goes The Weasel.” His voice rang soft and airy, perfectly on key. He hummed a bit more of the tune until he gently sang out, “ _Pop, goes the wea-sel..._ ”

“Georgie, you sound beautiful, darling,” Mary smiled, picking her head off from the window glass. Her son gave her a toothy smile back across from her in their cabin seat, bopping his head up and down. 

“I sing a lot, Mummy,” he answered. “Just like you.”

“Yes,” Mary beamed. “Just like me.”

At that given moment, she couldn’t be prouder. 

Mary and George soon met with Tom Branson and his daughter, Sybbie, at the drop-off station according to plan. After everyone received each other warm hugs and kisses, Mary squeezed George’s hand in hers, affectionately, and said, “How about you sing for your uncle and cousin, Georgie?”

Tom’s eyes widened with total shock and disbelief. He soon made Sybbie giggle hard beside him and swing his hand playfully through hers.

Mary, who was grinning below at her son, encouraged the boy with a small go-ahead gesture with her hand. “Go on, darling,” she pressed. “Sing like you did on the train ride for Uncle Tom and Cousin Sybbie.”

George reddened, self-conscious and shy now. He quickly buried half of his face into the scratchy fabric winter jacket his mother wore for this afternoon’s attire.

His uncle laughed good naturally. “Come now, George. There’s nothing to be scared of! You can sing for me...”

“Perhaps we’re a bit tired,” Mary suggested. “We’ve had ourselves a long day—haven’t we, George?”

She felt her son rub his face up and down on the wool coat material. George Crawley couldn’t bare to look at his family for knowing his ability to sing just like his mother.


End file.
